


Not According To Plan

by orphan_account



Category: Corpse Bride (2005), Homestuck
Genre: I cant write gomen, Jake/Jane is not going to be red don't get your hopes up, Multi, aka corpse bride, dirk is emily, jake is johnny depp, who are you calling uncle tom
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-11-02
Updated: 2013-11-02
Packaged: 2017-12-31 07:08:56
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,077
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1028753
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Hello I saw Ket and Chofi's posts and I</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Ket](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ket/gifts).



Your name is Jake English and the sound of the wind is very soothing as the world around you tumbles and screeches as it pulls you madly into your destiny. You look down at your suit with am inaudible sigh and fix the small flower before your door is slammed open and your grandmother shouts for you. It's time to go, to go. God forbid you mess this up. You both need this. You'll be happy with the young heiress.

You already feel tired as she ushers you into the carriage. The wind howling again. No, you wouldn't be happy. The clouds above you are grey, the streets are full of shouting people and you're quite certain the smell of the butchery and raw meat is going to follow you all the way to the perfumed doors of the crocker mansion. You have to ignore it and be grateful of your grandmother's ability to do this for you. You have to smile and take small breaths and stand up straight and tall like you're royalty. After all, it's not every day a butcher like you gets the chance to marry an upper-class lady like Miss Crocker. Soon to be Missus English.

Your robotic driver squeaks and puffs out smoke, and your grandmother gives a curse and a yell. The rest of the trip is remarkably silent, something you're thankful for.

...

Your name is Jane Crocker, and you sit quietly in your room as your mother talks aloud to your father. You feel utterly sad and in dispair. Your maid, Miss Serket, gives a silent sigh as she tightens your corset.

"Do you think I'll be happy?" you whisper softly, glancing back at her. She shakes her head, "Doesn't matter."

You look down at your hands and rub them together. Your mother complains of money and of your groom. It doesn't help. You feel worse, so much worse.

"A butcher! We're marrying our daughter off to a butcher! The nerve!" she bellows, and you feel as though your chairbis shaking. You don't want to get married.

Your maid stands you up and pats your back as you walk into the hallway. A ring and the pittering feet of your butler, Gamzee. You don't want the door to open. You wish you couldn't see the door open. You wish you were blind. You wish he was a king, the man you'll marry. You wish he was fake. You wish he didn't exist.

...

Your name is Jake English and standing behind your grandmother, you can see the butler roll his eyes. He remains silent, holding the door open as she and yourself walk inside. The place is dusty and drab. The people at the foot of the stairs, your in-laws, make you want to cringe and recoil. The woman is dressed in an entirely too bright dress, mouth painted a color you didn't even know existed. You almost step back.

Your bride to be hovers at the top of the stairs, examining you. She doesn't move. She looks oddly satisfied, then she's gone. You hahave no choice but to idly listen to your grandmother and in-laws speak out little details. They soon leave you in the room by yourself. Glancing around doesn't make the place any more grand. It doesn't make the cheap ring in your pocket feel any lighter. It doesn't make you feel any more confident, attractive, or worthy. You're a pile of junk standing in a bigger pile of junk. Lucky you.

You take a seat at the grand piano and glance over the keys. That one is C. Middle C. If you push it in a pattern it sounds terrible. Perfect.

...


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Yo

Wedding vows wedding vows. Remember remember remember. Your name is Jake English and you'll be damned if you're going to fuddle this whole thing up. You want to curse under your breath but hold back. You look back at your family, in-laws, and a strange girl who's sat herself down next to them. Your eyes linger over her as she sips her wine tenatively. You turn back around. 

"With this candle I will show you the light." Incorrect. "It will.. light up your glass."

"What?" your fiancee raised a brow. The in-laws murmured. "Your cup will never empty," you tried to pull through, but you hadn't set the candle down properly, and had rolled off the table and under yourmother-in-laws dress. Shrieking ensued. You stumbled back into the table, spilling the wine and shoutingbin surprise. Your fiancee looked shocked and distressed. It made your heart ache. You hushed her as the stranger dumped her wine on your in-law's dress. Jane apologized to you, and you looked down. What were the words, the words. You looked around, and you felt hot under the glares and disappointed glances.

"I'll. .be right back," you said softly as you quickly left the room. The second you had evaded their sights you sprinted past the silent butler and tired maid and past the carriage and stumbled over a loose tile piece. Your feet carried you past the newspaper salesman, the shop, the bridge, the trees until eventually you were grounded with a heavy fall. You sat up and glanced around. 

The trees stood tall around you. You felt a chill. Yes, not too far from home. Hurry up Jake, practice them quickly. Before the wind whines and they realize you aren't just using the bog. You stood to match the trees, words cycling through your head. Just say them, English. Do it.

"With this hand... I will guide..light.. cup your--oh no. I.." you look down and then flit your eyes back up. "With this hand, I will lift your sorrows! Your cup will never empty, for I will be your wine.." You have it you have it. You pick up a loose twig, pretending it's a candle. "With this candle, I will light your way into darkness! ....With this ring.." you pull it out. "I ASK YOU TO BE MINE!" You deftly slip it onto a twig. 

Okay. Okay. You've got it. Just as your hand reaches for the ring though, a loud creak and crack makes your ears ring. A figure stands up, attached to the branch...the..arm. You stumble back onto the ground.

"I do," the...zombie above you says. His ribs showing, quite literally. His hair white as the moon, he's blue as the sky. You're frozen in horror and suddenly everything is black.


End file.
